Days of the Apocalypse
by Sinclair Stories
Summary: When quiet, young Sinclair is finally sick of remembering everyone she lost, she leaves New York and sets out on her own. Later finding a boy who understands and cares for her. Z NATION. If you don't like it, don't read it. Leave comments and follow if you do like! I will try to update as often as possible:) THANK YOU SO MUCH - P.S. I take my time when I write - Detailed:)
1. In the Beginning

I don't prefer to be on my own. It just works out that way. I've been with a few different survival groups but nothing ever sticks. They all have some sort of personal problem, that causes a lot of outbursts. But then again I don't blame these people for living in the time and age of the beginning of the apocalypse. I'm a quiet person, I don't enjoy conflict, so being with a group of people with post-traumatic stress isn't really my type of scene.

I suppose I should start from the beginning. Hi, my name is Sinclair. I'm now 18 years old. I wouldn't say I can survive without any help, but then again, i'm not exactly searching for a partner to ride with me on this rollercoaster to hell. Even if I do get lonely. It doesn't matter to me anymore. Maybe if I hadn't been alone from the beginning, it might bother me more. But I have been alone. Ever since this thing started roughly 3 years ago.

When the first sign of outbreak started in New York, I was walking home from school. And that's all I really remember. It all happened so fast and somewhere in that blur is the cause of my families death. Mom, step-dad. Two older brothers and one younger half-brother, but still my brother with no doubt. All gone. I don't know if they died while I was gone or if they left me behind when they heard the news.

I didn't live in New York my whole life. When I began eighth grade we moved there. The apocalypse started when I was almost finished with ninth grade. I have more family back in Michigan which is where we moved from. My oldest Brother, Christopher, was in college when we moved and he wanted to finish school there. My dad stayed in Michigan, too. If I could go back to Michigan and try and find them I would. But if I do return, i'm scared of what I might find.

When I was a kid my real father would always take us hunting. I enjoyed shooting. That's how I got so good with a rifle. So much that my father gave me his when I moved. I didn't understand at first because there wasn't anywhere close to us in New York for us to hunt. But later I realized that it was a promise. A promise that I would come back. If not to visit him, then at least to hunt. And I did go back. I'm skilled with more than just a rifle though. I'm also good with a bow. My love for hunting stretched farther than those though. I used anything I could. Including knives. But at the time I was learning to use these weapons, I never thought that one day, I would have to use them on people. Living people. And definitely not the living dead.

At first I wasn't going to leave the city at all. I thought that sooner or later I might just go to sleep and not wake up. But it didn't happen. I stayed inside my apartment. Slowly I started making my way out, because I ran out of food. Started searching the neighboring rooms. Kept myself healthy. But I never left the building. Not until about 3 months later when I finally went down to the main lobby.

I had only killed 2 or 3 zombies. Most people tried leaving the city and just got trapped on the streets. So most undead were outside. But that moment that I saw him. Jacob. My youngest brother. He was only eight years old when all this went down. I hadn't seen him. In my mind I had hoped that he and my family got out alive, even though somewhere inside me knew that that most likely wasn't the case. I saw him standing there facing the wall. Until he heard the ting of the elevator, and turned toward me. Only it wasn't him anymore.

He began to walk toward me until his paced picked up and he ran. That's when I grabbed him by the neck holding him back. I cried and cried as he scratched at my shoulders. I fell to the ground scrambling for my knife inside my belt loop. I finally got it and I stabbed him in the stomach. Over and over. Finally one to the head and he stopped. His lifeless body fell on me. I layed there in shock. Quickly I pushed him off me and scooted over to the wall where I stared at what once was my little brother.

That was the moment that everything changed. I saw more zombies as they turned the corner. I got up and clicked the up button for floor number 7. I walked lifelessly to my room. I grabbed a backpack put as much food as I could carry. I got my rifle from my moms room and slung it around my back. Also the handgun my brother kept in his closet. Put my knife back in my belt loop and said good-bye.

I try not to think of that moment.

Getting out of the city was hard. It wasn't a one day mission this literally took a few months. Some places were so overrun that I had to go back and restart. When I finally got out, I stayed in a small cabin. It had a lot of food but of course this was only the beginning of the apocalypse so not many places had been raided. I stayed there for at least 2 years. It didn't feel like a home though. Its just that it was safe there and it didn't remind me of anyone i used to know. I had taken a few trips back into the city for supplies. I had a few visitors. People of course, sometimes they'd accompanying me on runs, but when things got out of hand I had to do what I had to do to survive. Weather that meant kicking them out or threatening to kill them.

But finally the time came where it was time to move on. To move on from New York completely. So I packed up as much as I could in my bag and headed out. Where to? I had no idea but I did know that sooner or later I would be in the right place at the right time.


	2. The Road to Perdition

I walk down the dirt road, kicking rocks and throwing sticks. Its quiet, and the sun will being going down soon. I'm on a street just outside the city, which is where most of the zombies tend to stay. Not like they have any travel plans. I smirk at the thought. It's interesting what seems humorous when you don't have anyone within 100 miles to talk to.

I look up from my feet and see a small cabin inside the woods to my left. I walk over to it but the windows are broken, and the doors knocked down. No more safe than sleeping outside. But then I see it. In the back yard there's a small tree with a tree house attached. I climb up and bang my handgun on the wooden floor. I don't hear anything. I unlatch the opening and climb in. There's half a zombie laying in a sleeping bag. Reaching it's arm toward me, but of course it can't move and it can't reach me.

I take my knife out and kill it. I push the sleeping bag out of the floor opening, and lay my fresh one down. Theres a few cans of food and half a bottle of water. I see a backpack. Probably belonged to whoever that zombie was. I pull it over and set it on my lap. Open the first small pocket. There's some ammo, a lighter, and a compass. I open the medium pocket next. First aid kit, pack of batteries, and a walkie talkie. I open the big pocket and find a can of tuna, a notebook, rope, gas mask, and a 9mm pistol with another box of ammo.

I'm starving so I open up a can of green beans. I stand as I shovel a cap full into my mouth. Theres a small table in the corner. On top there's a small radio. I grab it and sit back down on my sleeping bag. I turn it on but nothing. I open the back of it and take out the batteries. I put in the new ones that I just found. Then really loud static. I quickly turn it down to a more reasonable volume level not wanting to attract anything that might be near by. I adjust the station but nothing. Adjust the antenna and then I hear something. I can't make anything out but I keep trying. I hit it a few times, getting irritated. I shut it off. I figure I could get a better signal at another time so I put it in my backpack.

I crumble up some paper and put it in the empty green bean can and light it on fire. I get into my sleeping bag and pull a book out of my bag. Nothing interesting, just something I picked up along the way. But then I hear something. Voices. I don't catch much of what they're saying but it's a man and a woman and as they get closer, I make out what they're saying. They killed someone.

In detail, they talk about everything that happened. I quickly blow out the small can fire and lay down. I listen, being sure to control my breathing. One says something about the tree house. I hear the creek of the wood as someone climbs the ladder. Good thing I latched it from the inside earlier. I hear him bang on it hoping to get it open, but it won't budge. I stand up and throw something out of the old broken window. He climbs back down.

I duck down with just my eyes peering out. The man and woman both have their guns up ready to fight anything. I throw another thing and a shot goes off. Then a few minutes later, several zombies come out of the woods. They shoot about 5 but there's still 4 left. The man and woman are dead. I lay back down. Their screams have dulled to the ripping of their flesh. With that I fall into a deep sleep.

Waking up the next morning with gunk in my eyes, I begin to roll my sleeping bag up and attach it to my backpack. I put everything into my bag which is bigger than the one I found. I get my gun ready as I prepare to open the small door attached to the floor. Quickly I open it. Nothing. I climb down the ladder and see one. It's busy eating what's left of the woman from last night. I put my gun in the holster and get my knife out. I walk over and stab it in the head. Also, the woman just to be safe.

I check her pockets. She didn't have much, just a knife and some ammo, which I took. But no gun, what sense does that make. Inside her front jacket pocket I find a picture. Its her and a man, who I assume is the dead one laying next to her, and a child. A baby girl. I flip it over, it says 'My dearest Alice, 3rd birthday.' I don't feel bad. I put the picture in my pocket, and walk back to the dirt street.

And once again I find myself walking on the road to Perdition


	3. Welcome to Pennsylvania

I keep making my way up the road, the sun shining in my face. I've been walking for 3 hours now, and I can still see the city. I'm proud of myself. For finally leaving the place I had called home. My stomach grumbles but I don't eat anything. I just take a small sip of water.

I look to the right on the ground and see a body. It's dead. I'm sure because I see the bullet hole in the forehead. I walk over and take the sunglasses off it's face. As I dust them off, I see my reflection. I don't look the same. Physical features maybe, other than the accumulation of dirt, but my eyes, they're hollow. They're dark. Dead. I may look it but i'm not the same person. I know why, too. It's because I had to kill my own brother. The sweetest and smartest boy in his third grade class. The one who wrote that his favorite thing to listen to was the sound of his big sister singing. I miss him.

I don't know where I am location wise but I know I'm still in New York. I come across a house. One with a garage and deck and driveway, not like the others. The others were small cabins, this was real. I try the front door but its locked. I walk over to the garage and pull up the door. There's a beautiful almost untouched black motorcycle. I'm mesmerized. I walk over to a red set of metal drawers. Inside the second drawer there's a crowbar. I grab it and head back to the front door.

I knock on the door twice. I don't hear anything so I do it again. Still nothing, so I jam the crowbar in the door and force it open. My first step inside and something grabs me. I turn and shove the crowbar horizontal in its mouth so it can't bite me. I get my leg up and kick it in the stomach. Its falls against the wall and I force the crowbar through the bridge of its nose.

I wipe the sweat from my forehead and throw the bloody crowbar on the ground. Someone has been here already because all the cabinets are raided. They probably came in the back way. I search the drawers for anything useful. I check the entire living room plus half the kitchen until finally, something I can utilize. Keys. Or to be more specific keys to that brand new motorcycle in the garage. I scramble for them, seeing that they are kicked almost completely under the refrigerator. I run out the front door and into the garage where the bike is parked.

Now, since everything went down when I was 15, I had only just started drivers training. But long before that my grandpa had an old motorcycle. He would always take us for rides on it and show us how to take care of it. And. How to drive it.

I put the keys in and turn. YES! It started! I check the gas gauge and its about half full. I take the keys out and go back into the house. I go upstairs to a kids room. I grab a backpack off the back of a door and shove a blanket in. Also a lighter from what I assume was the parents bedroom. I head to the bathroom and open the medicine cabinet. I find Claritin, Ibuprofen, extra strength Tylenol and some cold medicine, along with some band-aids. I put everything into the bag.

On my way out, I pass by a full body mirror. I go back and look at myself. Bloodstained clothes with holes in the knees of my jeans. Not to mention my shoes are practically falling apart with each step. I search two more bedrooms and one happens to be a girl roughly my age. I can tell because all over the walls you find posters of boy bands and other singers. Not that I had any of these on my walls. I wouldn't say i'm a tomboy because I can be girly if I wanted. But I wasn't the kind of person who put posters on the walls and dream't of meeting the people in them. I just listened to the music and was happy.

I go in the closet. I find a black pair of jeans and a loose gray shirt which I don't notice is a crop until I put it on but I didn't care. Then I see a nice leather jacket hanging on the back of the door. I grab it and put it on. It's a little big but it's a jacket all the same. I shove the clothes to the sides of the closet and see some shoes in the bottom. But their all to big. I go in the parents bedroom and find some black womens' combat boots. These should last me a while. I lace them up, grab my extra bag, and head back downstairs.

I find a helmet hanging on the wall. I tuck my hair into it and steer the motorcycle so it's facing the other way. I get on and put the keys in the ignition. I slowly turn the twist grip on the right handlebar which is the gas. So far so good. I get out to the street and start driving along the road. It feels weird at first but i'm a better driver than I thought I would be. Things are going to be a lot easier now that I have a vehicle.

That night I slept inside a train conductor booth. Not the safest or most promising of all places but it got the job done. I step out and see a zombie a good 90 feet away. I grab my bow off my back and get an arrow out of the quiver. I aim. Breathe. In, Out. Its been awhile. Right through the head and then stuck the cross road post behind it. I put the bow back and drive up to the sign. I grab the end of the arrow and yank it out. After I wipe it on the ground I put it back in the quiver as I look at the _Welcome to Pennsylvania _sign. I flip the shade of my helmet down and i'm back on my way.


	4. Welcome to Philadelphia

I'm almost out of gas when I stop just outside Back Mountain, Pennsylvania. Not too many Zs, so I drive right through. Then I finally run out of gas. I see a gas station about 4 blocks up the road so I get out and push. Luckily it's not uphill. The Zs get pretty close but its nothing I can't handle.

This is a beautiful town. Or at least it was. Lots of trees and small shops. I push my bike up to one of the pumps. Take off my helmet and hang it on the handle bars. Shoot. There's no way for me to get the gas. I turn around and look into the street. There's some cars but that's not what i'm looking for. I walk over to the pile of cars and start pushing things around. Nothing. Down the street there's a mechanic shop. That should have what I need.

I walk over, it's only about a block away. I garage door is half way open. I look under and it doesn't look like anyone's inside. I roll under and look around. No one. I see several containers of gas but they're all empty. I search and search and up on a shelf I see one. I put one foot on the lowest shelf and begin to climb up. I shake the container and hear fluid moving inside. I grab its handle and swing it down as I jump onto the floor.

I carry it with me as I go into the main part of the shop. One by one I check the isles for any Zombies. Its clear. I holster my gun and look on the shelves for a manual car fuel pump. I find one so I grab my container of fuel and head back to the gas station.

I open the screw top of the container and of my gas tank. As I pour it in, I notice a few zombies circling the corner. Nothing to worry about but as I set the container down, I notice more. Then more, and it's gets to be too many to handle. I shove the manual pump into my bag and hop on my bike. As soon as I get my helmet on, I speed off. As I ride I hear the groans of the Zs behind me and I feel so thankful that I found some gas before they showed up.

I stop about a mile outside the small town. I take my helmet off and catch my breath. I look back at the horde of Zs slowly coming toward me from the distance. Clearly I can't go that way anymore. I see another way with a sign saying Philadelphia. I have two options. And let me tell you, i'm not going back where I came from. I pull my map out of my back pocket. I find Back Mountain on the map and estimate the distance from there to Philadelphia. Its roughly 120 miles. At the speed I drive, I should arrive there in about 2 hours. I have a few hours until sundown so I should be okay.

As I drive south on Interstate 476, I pass by hundreds of destroyed industrial buildings and cars. This is a morbid world. I see peoples belongings scattered all across the road and think, what would I being doing right now if there hadn't been an apocalypse? I would have just finished high school. I would have gone to college and started a career in Sports Medicine. That's what I wanted to do and that's what I had been preparing for my whole life. But now that dream is gone and the only things that come to me when I sleep are nightmares.

As I drive up the ramp, with the river to my left, I look straight ahead hoping to find somewhere to stay overnight. Not many Zs outside but I know they're out there somewhere. I pull up to a pawn shop. I park my bike in the alley next to it, right behind a dumpster. I grab my bags and walk to the front of the store. I push my face against the glass to see inside. I see two Zs. I crack the door open slightly and bang on the window. When one gets close enough I stab it right in the ear. The other one follows and I do the same.

Pushing the bodies aside as I open the door, I check behind the counter and in the backroom but the place is empty. I shut the front door and push a table filled with old jewelry in front of it. I clear a spot behind the counter and set up my sleeping bag, along with the small, portable radio I had found a few days ago. I take off my boots and stretch my legs. I look around. There's all kinds of old posters and instruments lining the walls. There's one section of glass cases built into the wall that is completely empty. Based on the weapons are not loaded notice above it, I can guess what might have been in there pre-apocalypse.

I open my bag and take out the blanket along with some Ibuprofen because my head is killing me. I'm almost out of water so I take small sips to wash the medicine down. I eat a third of a can of peaches and some tuna. I have more food but if you get used to eating big portions you starve faster, and I really don't want that. Adjusting the station for the radio I pick up something. I fiddle with the antenna hoping to make it clear. It's music. I can't believe there's someone out there right now broadcasting music. Out of all things. I turn the volume up a little louder but not too loud. I take out my book and get into the sleeping bag, along with the blanket. That's the quickest i've fallen asleep in three years.


	5. Pretty Bad Luck

The next morning, I wake up and get things ready to head out. As I move the table back from in front of the door. I watch as some Zs stroll across the street. I stab the closest one and run to where my bike is parked. 10 Seconds later i'm driving on the road once again. I have about a third a tank of gas. That should at least get me out of the city. 15 miles later I come across what looks like used to be a survival group and where they had made camp. The place is completely overrun. There's a few trailers and I see a 50 caliber machine gun. How could they get overrun with that thing? There's flames, too, so I know something exploded. I gotta get out of this death trap of a camp.

As I continue to drive I come across a few cars. I'm running low on gas, so I get my manual pump and check them. Thank god. I got a good amount gas. It should give me another 80 miles or so. I hop back on my bike and when I look around, I know i'm somewhere in Amish Country. There's several horse drawn carriages, but no horses. A couple dead zombies. I pull off. About 4 minutes later, as i'm coming around a bend, I see a black pick up truck up on the road. There's people but I don't know if they're Zs or not. I swing my rifle off of my back and hold the scope up to my face. Their alive alright. 8 people total. Three standing around, three in the bed of the truck, and two its looks like are working on fixing it. Must have broken down.

I debate whether or not I should try and help, pass them by, or wait 'til they get going again. The choice is easy once I realize they have guns. Lots and lots of firepower. I decide I will wait and follow behind. I don't know what kinds of people they are. They could be bandits. Or even cannibals looking for their next meal, I don't know. I move my bike over to the side of the road and sit down next to it. They shouldn't be able to see me. Not unless that one in the bed of the truck, with the sniper rifle, gets suspicious. A little while later, I lay down on my stomach and point my rifle over there once again. I watch as one of the people who had been standing around, takes something from a girl with bright red hair. I watch as he walks away from the group. Quickly looking away when I realize hes going to use the bathroom. Gross.

Less than 5 minutes later, I see one of them get into the drivers seat. I look in the back window as the woman turns the key. I hear them cheer off in the distance, so I assume they fixed their car. I move from laying on the ground to crouching down so they don't spot me. I slowly put the keys in my bike and turn them. I wait for the people with the black pick up to start moving before I get on. I pull off right as they go over a large hill.

When I get to the top of the hill, I slow to a stop. I pull over to the left of the street, because there are trees in the way. I grab my rifle and look. An old beat up car, turns the corner behind them. I look at the black truck again. Its stops. The guy with the rifle jumps out and runs over to some trees. The rest of them get out. There are about 10 zombies in the way. The small car behind them, slows to a stop right as the woman who was driving the black truck cuts off a Zs head.

Suddenly everyone pulls a gun out. The people in the small car, the people in the truck and some of the zombies. What…? These people had been waiting for this. I hear someone shoot. It was the guy with the rifle. The men pretending to be zombies and the men from the small car take the truck. When they pull off I watch as everyone else piles into the little crap car. They look like a bunch of clowns. I smile and shake my head as I begin to drive.

By the time I get to the bottom of the hill i'm a lot closer to the people than I thought. I slow down not wanting anyone to spot me. Their car doesn't go very fast so I take my time. Once again they stop in the road about 30 minutes later. So pull of to the side. This time i'm a close enough distance to hear. Good thing these people talk loud. They put their guns up and aim them at what looks like the same people that took their truck. This time there's a family there too. Mom, dad, son, and daughter. Two little kids having to live in a life like this? It makes me sick.

The bandits from before slowly put their weapons on the ground. A man looks to the right and sees what I think is several people lined up, hands behind their head and on their knees. Then it occurs to me. That family is not innocent. They start firing at the bandits killing all nine of them. Then they take the truck. Once again the first group of people I spotted is stuck inside that beat up car. I listen as they once again pile in. They bicker, but I understand because they have had some pretty bad luck in the last hour and a half.


End file.
